300 Days a Year (Part 1/??)

I don’t know where this came from, but it wouldn’t leave my brain…

Summary: In which Tim is the new teacher assistant at Smallville High and Kon is the student who won’t stop hitting on him. AU.

300 Days a Year - Part 1

The first time Tim laid eyes on Conner Kent, he knew that boy was going to be trouble.

Not because the guy had a record for getting sent to the principal’s every damn week, but because the very moment Tim had gotten out of his car and stepped onto the lot, Conner was already standing there.

From afar, he was just your regular teenaged boy: tall (a little bit taller than him even), dark tousled hair, blue eyes, flannel shirt and a pair of glasses that looked somewhat out of place on his tanned face.

But up close, he was openly eying Tim up and down in the most inappropriate way a 17-year-old with a raging libidio knew how and paused only to grin at Tim’s rear end, as though Christmas had somehow come early this year.

Tim remembered the precise words that were said to him that day.

“Nice ride. Wanna go behind the bleachers and have an even better one?”

Needless to say, he left Conner rejected and alone by the parking lot. Tim thought that that would be the last he’d see of him. Sure, Smallville was a small town, and Smallville High populated with even less people, but Tim thought the chances of running into Conner again were almost slim to none.

He should have known better.

The second Tim had stepped into the classroom he was going to help teach, the first thing he spotted was… well, Conner, who was sitting at the back of his class, looking bored as hell until Tim walked in. The boy was on alert—sitting up so straight he almost fell off his chair. He leaned over his desk, his eyes staring fixedly at Tim as if he could hardly believe this was happening.

For different reasons, Tim could barely believe it either.

Just as their eyes met, Conner’s wonder and disbelief automatically morphed into that smug satisfaction he’d been greeted with earlier at the parking lot. Tim was even willing to bet that Conner was staring at his ass again.

“Attention class!” said Ms Stephanie Brown, a pretty blonde with a warm, friendly smile. “This is Mr. Timothy Drake, and he’ll be our new assistant teacher for this semester.”

Save for the girls at the front of the class (who had taken to giggling and whispering amongst themselves), the rest applauded with less enthusiasm. Ms Brown didn’t seem too bothered by it and turned her smile back at Tim.

“Would you like to say anything to the class before we get straight to the lesson, Mr. Drake?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, I do,” said Tim, nodding and Ms Brown side-stepped out of the way to let him speak. He cleared his throat at the awkward, dull silence that filled the room. “Uh… just wanted to thank you you all for welcoming me to your school,” he quickly glanced at Ms Brown again, who smiled encouragingly at him, “and that I look forward to teaching you guys. That’s all.”

Cue another round of out-of-sync applause.

“Alright then, everyone,” said Ms Brown, “please open up your math books and turn to page 230.”

The class went decidedly well. By the time, Ms Brown had finished going through vectors, Tim was already getting the hang of everybody’s names, how the lessons were divided and planned and what he could do to help run the course more smoothly and more efficiently.

The bell eventually rang, signalling the end of first period. Everyone filed out into the halls, the sound of chatter and bustling of other students echoed loud and clear. Ms Brown said about getting a cup of coffee at the teacher lounge and for Tim to follow after her if he liked.

As Tim began putting his papers away, he became aware that someone was standing by his desk. He did not have to be a psychic to know who it was, although he was kind of hoping he’d be wrong this time.

But to his dismay, it was, indeed, Conner, standing as he was at the parking lot. The smirk was still there too.

“So, you’re my teacher,” he said, as if he was talking about the weather. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Tim refrained from sighing. “Is there anything I can help you with, Conner?” he asked.

“Yeah, just one thing,” said Conner, his eyes sliding up and down Tim’s body again. “What do I have to do to get a private session out of you?” he asked, giving Tim a wink. “I promise I’ll ace every lesson.”

Once again, Tim left him rejected and alone in the classroom, but something in his gut told him that this would not be the last of his encounters with Conner Kent.

Day 1, finished.

Three hundred and four days left to go.